Not Alone
by Meitantei Conan
Summary: [MarkRoger] Mark takes a look at the world and people around him. He begins to realize that, soon, things will take a turn for the worse. He wears himself down with concern for others and finds he's never been alone.


**Author's Notes:** Hello there. My first RENT!Fic. So, yeah. Also the first time I've written something strictly first person. So it's strange for me. This was originallygoing to besomething of acharacterstudy on Mark, but it changed.I was inspired to write this because of a Role Play I am currently involved in. I apologize ahead of time for Roger's rather OOCness. (Thus, why I play Mark and not Roger. XD ) The title is rather cheesy, but I think it suits it well. It's also a reference, in a sense, to What You Own. Lovely song, really. Well, I think that's all. R/R! n.n

**Warning:** Yes, this is a Slash fic. If you do not like Slash or gay relations, please press the back button on your browser now. ;o

This fic is set in Mark Cohen's point of view.

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You know, sometimes I feel as though I'm falling; Falling away from everything around me. However, I'm still standing, moving, smiling, and breathing; I feel so empty. My very soul leaks out, taking in what the camera sees, holding it close. Though, what the camera sees is not always something so sweet and pleasant. That pure lens whirls around, reflecting and focusing in on the world that vividly spins around me. It takes in a homeless woman or even the cast off body of a poverty stricken man.

That's when I really open my eyes. Am I right to complain about my poor living conditions? We have furniture, protection, heat (sometimes) and even food on the good days. Who am I to be complaining? That woman on the street really got to me, though. If I have ever been scared in the past year or so, it was at that very moment. Cops were bothering and badgering that woman, and I took the liberty to film them in the act. Just as I did this, she blew up at me. I had no right to be sticking my camera in her face, thinking I was doing her some good. And then there came that big question. _Tell me, artist, do you have a dollar?_ No, no I didn't. I don't think I ever will.

After Maureen's whines and trills, the Life Support meetings, after everything was said and done, after everyone had turned out the lights and fallen asleep, I was still there. Yes, I was there with my camera, watching the day flicker by upon the film. In that very moment, I find myself overwhelmed. Though I feel sick, I cannot pull my eyes from the small glowing screen. Everything was so close, yet so far away. Maureen had Joanne. Angel was with Collins. Roger seemed to have Mimi. Mark was with…? Yeah, that was a good question.

Again, that falling feeling washes around me. The room lurches wildly to one side. Soon, it's spinning. All in the same moment, it falls black. I am falling, but everything feels so slow motion now. Hitting the floor, I can only pray that this goes away before anyone wakes up. Though, as my consciousness fades in an out, I can hear footsteps, socked feet swishing along the cold flooring. Before I can see anything else, I'm out.

When I am finally allowed to wake, there is not the coldness of the floor around me. Instead, I'm in bed, wrapped tightly with several blankets. Moving, I groan and push my face into my pillow. My glasses weren't on, either. I know I definitely did not put myself here. Once I had sat up, I had to wait for the room to come into focus. My body felt weak, exhausted, and cold. Ignoring it and slipping on my glasses, I stood up and slowly moved off into the living room. Roger was there with his guitar; Angel was sitting in Collins' lap talking vividly about something. I didn't bother to listen.

"Hey…"

Looking up at the voice, that mask falls into place. A small smile is there.

"Mornin' Rog."

"You feeling any better?" He's plucking notes to that damned Musetta's Waltz again.

"I've been feeling fine." Lie through your teeth Mark, lie.

"Hmm. You should head back to bed soon. Your fever hasn't gone away."

"O-Oh…yeah…" I find myself staring at my feet and I sigh gently. "Did you take your AZT?" I can't take that mask off now. Not in front of him.

"We made sure he did, honey. Now you get off to bed. Want some breakfast? I brought doughnuts!" Angel always seemed to light up an ever-dreary moment. Always think positive.

"Heh, sure, why not?"

And I was ushered off to bed, given food, comfort, and company. All three of them moved into my room, talking and laughing up a storm. Life was looking good today. Though, eventually, Angel and Collins disappeared, leaving Roger and I to our own thoughts.

"You're wearing yourself out, Mark." I jumped, not expecting his voice amongst that silence.

"Nah, it's just a cold, I'm sure."

"You passed out. You've got a fever and bruises everywhere."

"I'll be fine."

"Hmm."

That silence filled the room again. To me, silence was normal. While everyone laughed and joked, I fell into silence. Of course, I'd smile and laugh a little, but I still felt deafened by the silence that encompassed me. Feeling this silence…well, _that_ isn't normal. But I had to get used to this feeling, to get used to feeling alone and on my own. I'd have to face it someday, might as well be prepared.

"Mark?" I just realized he's been calling my name. How many times did I miss this?

"…yeah?"

He's sitting up on the edge of the bed, next to me, staring at me with those eyes. Those blue eyes that hold so much pain, yet so much concern. He reaches up a hand and I notice, then, that I had been crying. I let the mask slip. I try to smile to reassure him, but it doesn't show through. But those eyes look at me so knowingly. They know what I was thinking, feeling—wishing. They know the inevitable.

"I'll be okay." His words are quiet, choked. Roger knows all too well.

"Angel's getting worse…Collins and Mimi will, too. And…" I didn't want to say it. I didn't want to face it yet. To know that truly, over the years, I would be sitting in this same room alone, hoping to hear Musetta's Waltz ringing through the silence, or even hoping to hear the deep laughter and the clicking of heels against the floor. I would be alone. Those sweet sounds and images…they'd only be available to me through film, through the eyes of my wretched camera. "You'll be gone, too."

The other audibly sighed and took me aback by embracing me, holding me close. I couldn't help but to comply and return the sweet embrace.

"Maybe…but we're all here right now. Isn't that enough? And, if that does happen, we'll still be here. Thanks to you…"

I'm trying to pull that mask back on, but it's not working. My body feels cold again, and warmth stings my face. Why won't the tears stop? I don't want them to see my fear, to know that **they** are my Life Support. Going to those meetings helps me, too. I know what is to come…it helps me face the truth. Still, I can't stop the tears.

My thoughts break at something very different. My lips are pressed against another's. When that sweet kiss ends, I look up and find a caring Roger staring down at me. So he did feel the same?

"Roger…what…" Gather your words, first, Mark. "Since when are you…? And Mimi…?"

"For quite some time. Things weren't going so well between Mimi and I."

This made things even more painful. Yes, I have feelings for Roger…but…

"Mark…" Dare I look up? His voice is so soft, so gentle. I look up.

"I'll always be here."

As if all my thoughts were wiped away, I smile. Not that damnable mask, but a true smile. We don't need deep explanation right now, just understanding. Questions can be asked later…much later. So, with a sigh, I lean into that warm embrace and relax. It felt good to know that someone cared. I would never truly be alone. No, not really.

"I know, Rog, I know."


End file.
